


we can't lose touch (but we can let go)

by sleepybois_inc (the_ace_place)



Series: dark seeks dark [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ao3 change the tags to not be their real names challenge, Demon Darryl Noveschosch, Diamond Golem Hybrid Skeppy, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I know it says "RPF" but this is about the characters not the CCs, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Platonic Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), blatantly ignoring the eggpire arc in this lmao sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ace_place/pseuds/sleepybois_inc
Summary: “Well that’s all well and good, but that still doesn’t explain why the hell you paid off Punz to drag me all the way out to your creepy little lair.”“Oh, Skeppy, don’t you get it?” Dream leaned in closer, and his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “What’s the one thing Bad cares about on this godforsaken server?”And just like that, Skeppy’s world fell apart.(Or, Dream has a spot for everything, and Skeppy's life shatters because of it.)
Relationships: I don't ship real people - Relationship, No Romantic Relationship(s), Zak Ahmed & Antfrost & Darryl Noveschosch & Sam | Awesamdude, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Series: dark seeks dark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175858
Comments: 65
Kudos: 348
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	we can't lose touch (but we can let go)

**Author's Note:**

> TW // kidnapping, mild blood and violence, dissociation
> 
> Title is from "Ms" by alt-j. 
> 
> This is by far the longest fic I've ever written. I hope you enjoy!

Skeppy awoke with a pounding head to the feeling of a gentle rocking. He tried to open his eyes, but doing so shot a sharp pain through his skull, so he slammed them shut again with a groan. 

“Oh. You’re awake,” a voice said nonchalantly. “Sorry about the head. I had to get you out here somehow.”

Skeppy tried to rub the stars out of his eyes, but quickly found that he couldn’t move his hands. With a healthy amount of panic beginning to set in, he resigned to trying to open his eyes again, albeit much more slowly. The sun glared far too brightly as he squinted, but after a few seconds, the sharp pain subsided and he managed to open his eyes completely. 

He was then greeted with a faceful of misty saltwater. 

Skeppy spluttered, trying to blink the salt out of his already-sore eyes. The then-gentle rocking had become a bit more violent, and the world spun as he tried to get a bearing of his surroundings. 

Blinking hard yet again, he tried to sit up, only for the world to begin spinning more aggressively. His head was still pounding, and his right arm had fallen asleep, pinned uncomfortably beneath the rest of his body. 

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” the man said. “You took a nasty hit to the head.”

Skeppy didn’t take the advice. With some difficulty, as he didn’t have the use of his hands, he managed to push himself into a seated position. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the brightness of the sun glaring off the water, and only then did it become abundantly clear to his addled brain that he was in a boat. 

He twisted his head, turning to see that the man driving the boat was none other than Punz. 

Skeppy didn’t know Punz well. He knew that the man was a mercenary, and that he would do basically anything for money, and that he had little to no true loyalty to _anyone_. 

But for the life of him, Skeppy could not figure out who the hell he’d pissed off to the point that they’d cough up enough valuables to enlist the help of Punz. The man wasn’t cheap, after all. But regardless of _who_ had paid him off, it didn’t change the fact that the situation Skeppy found himself in was… undesirable. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

“Well, you see,” Punz said calmly, "someone was willing to pay me quite the sum of money to get their hands on you. So here we are.”

Well. That was not ideal. 

“So, what? You’re a bounty hunter now?”

Punz shrugged. “If you put it that way.”

A decidedly uncomfortable silence settled upon them. Normally, Skeppy would have some sort of quip or joke, but quite frankly his head still hurt and he wasn’t really in the mood. 

“It’s good you’re awake, actually,” Punz commented, glancing at a compass. “We’re almost there. I didn’t want to have to carry you any longer. You’re a lot heavier than you look. What, did you eat a stack of bricks for breakfast?”

“Well, I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” Skeppy shot back. “Because it’s definitely my fault that I’m half rock.”

“Yeah, well, you should be sorry,” Punz muttered. “You best be glad I carried you instead of dragging you behind me like a dead body.”

“I’m eternally grateful,” Skeppy responded, rolling his eyes. “Listen, can you tell me who paid you off? I think I deserve to know.”

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough. We’re almost there.”

It was then that, through the early-morning mist, Skeppy was able to make out what was quite frankly a monster of a mountain. It was gigantic, rising far, far above their heads, with jagged peaks that almost looked like they could pierce the sky.

“Where the hell are we?”

“Far.” 

“Very specific.”

“Listen, I’m gonna need you to shut up for a second,” Punz said. 

“Or else what?”

Punz glanced over his shoulder, giving Skeppy a cold look. “I’ll push you overboard. Don’t think I won’t. I don’t think you’ll be able to swim very far with your hands tied behind your back.”

Skeppy smiled nervously. “Fair enough.” 

Punz turned back around, stopping rowing momentarily in order to tap the comm in his ear. “You there?” 

He paused for a second, listening to whoever was speaking through at the other end of the call. “Yeah, I got him. I’m here. Where we meeting?” 

He listened for a few more seconds. “Yeah, got it. See you in five.” 

“Tell them that their mom’s gay,” Skeppy whispered, quite loudly.

Punz shot him a glare, then double-tapped the earpiece, ending the call. “What did I literally just say about talking?”

Skeppy shrugged. “If you wanted to drown me, you probably would’ve already done it by now.” 

Punz raised an eyebrow. “Touché.” He paused for a moment, then resumed rowing the boat towards the island. “Listen, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to get out of the boat first, and then you will follow when I tell you to. We are going to walk around the base of the mountain. You are not going to make any sudden movements. I was told to bring you alive, but that doesn’t mean you need all your body parts attached if it comes to that. You catch my drift?”

“Jesus Christ, okay,” Skeppy said, shifting as far away from Punz as possible in the tiny boat. 

Ok, so _maybe_ he should’ve been taking the situation slightly more seriously. 

The rest of the trip passed in an uncomfortable silence, Punz periodically checking the compass and Skeppy unsuccessfully trying to brainstorm a way to get out of this one. But all too soon, the boat bumped up against the shore, and Punz hopped out with surprising grace, his full netherite gleaming in the rising sun. 

He drew his sword, the enchantments glittering, and faced Skeppy with an indifferent expression. “Get out, slowly.” 

Skeppy stood up, probably a bit too fast, as his vision immediately started swimming and Punz had to grab his shoulders to keep him from falling over.

“I said slowly, dumbass.” 

With the rocking of the boat, along with the spinning of the rest of the world, Punz had to help guide Skeppy out of the small vessel, which would have been humiliating if the alternative hadn’t been falling headfirst into the water. Eventually, however, he made it out of the boat and onto dry land. 

Punz released him in favor of brandishing his sword threateningly. “Walk in front of me. I’ll tell you where to go.” 

Skeppy couldn’t think of a witty response fast enough, so he resorted to stumbling along somewhat ungracefully. Whenever he hesitated, he was promptly reminded of his lack of armor by a swordpoint to his back, so he did his best to keep pace. 

The trip didn’t take long. They covered ground fast, and after only a few minutes of walking they reached a clearing that was empty save for a lodestone. Punz checked his compass one last time, then tucked it away securely in a pocket. 

“We’re here.” 

“Oh, joy,” Skeppy muttered. 

“Quiet.”

Skeppy stuck out his tongue at Punz, and almost immediately regretted it when the other brandished his sword threateningly. 

Punz glared at Skeppy for a few more seconds, then sighed and slightly lowered the weapon. He called out to the clearing, “Hey, man, I’m here. Are you gonna come out or keep hiding in the trees like a creep?”

“Now, Punz, you should know better than to expect me to be standing out in the open awkwardly waiting for you,” rang out a smooth, instantly recognizable voice from the surrounding trees. As the man stepped forward, Skeppy instinctually took a step back, but was greeted with the tip of Punz’s blade resting coolly against the back of his neck. 

Skeppy whipped around to face Punz. “It’s _Dream?_ Are you fucking serious?” 

To say Skeppy was confused would, quite frankly, be the understatement of the century. As far as he knew, he didn’t have any beef with Dream-- he even thought they were on decent terms. And he barely even knew the dude! So why the hell would Dream be willing to pay Punz what was likely a large sum of money just to drag him halfway across the goddamn server to fuck-knows-where?

“Hello, Skeppy,” Dream said. “It’s been a while.” 

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Dream’s blank porcelain mask stared back at him unflinchingly. “Punz, you can leave us now. You’re no longer needed.” 

“Whatever you say, man. Just get me the second half by tomorrow.”

“It’s already in a chest in your base.”

Punz rolled his eyes. “Of course it is.” The blade against Skeppy’s skin disappeared, yet the removal of the threat was overshadowed by the much bigger threat standing a few feet in front of him. 

“Later, Skeppy. Good luck,” Punz said, before disappearing back in the direction of the boat. Skeppy watched him leave with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Things were not looking promising for him. 

He could try to run, now that Punz was no longer breathing down his neck, but Dream was quite obviously rich-- he was wearing full netherite like Punz. His crossbow was loaded as well, as if he was anticipating Skeppy’s futile attempt at running away. An axe hung from his belt, glimmering with enchantments, along with a sword strapped to his back. Skeppy wouldn’t make it five steps.

“Walk with me,” Dream said in a somewhat unnerving tone of voice. 

“Um, I’d rather not, thanks,” Skeppy said, smiling nervously. “If it’s all the same to you, Bad’s expecting me, so I should probably be getting home.” 

Dream sighed. “Listen, Skeppy, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. And it’s really all the same to me, so I suggest you pick the easy way before you regret letting me decide for you.” 

“What’s the difference? I’m pretty sure if you wanted me dead, I’d already be dead, so…?”

“The easy way is you coming along peacefully. The hard way is me shooting you in the kneecaps and dragging you along with me anyway,” Dream said nonchalantly. The enchantments on his crossbow gleamed dangerously in the rising sun. 

“Ah. I see. I think I’ll take the easy way, thanks,” Skeppy said, in a mild state of shock, as he still had little to no idea of what the hell was happening. 

Dream presumably smiled under the mask. “Excellent! Walk with me,” he said, placing one hand on Skeppy’s shoulder. Said hybrid’s body certainly did not enjoy the foreign, threatening touch, and the skin on his shoulder instantly hardened in self-defense.

“Interesting,” Dream said. “I’ll decide not to take that as a threat, for now. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Right,” Skeppy muttered. “Thanks for that.” 

Dream started guiding them out of the clearing, past the lodestone, and into the forest. He was almost imperceptibly humming a tune under his breath, one that Skeppy recognized as Cat. 

“So… are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“My base, of course,” Dream said. “There’s something there that you need to see, so--”

“Hold up,” Skeppy interrupted. “You have a base? Techno told me you were homeless.”

Dream’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “I’M NOT-- listen to me. I am not homeless. We are going to my base, not my house. I have a house and it’s very large and it’s very far from here.” 

“Right,” Skeppy said. “I totally believe you.”

“I am not homeless!” Dream said, anger seeping into his usually calm voice. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. We’re here.”

“Uh huh.” Skeppy stared at the stone wall in front of them. “Nice base you’ve got.” 

“Don’t move.” Dream released Skeppy’s shoulder, and the crystalline shell returned to normal, soft skin. The masked man pulled out his netherite pick and, with a few hard hits, the wall in front of them gave way. A cave was revealed within the stone, lit with sporadically placed torches on the walls. There was a frame of obsidian surrounding blackstone half-buried in the earth. 

“Ah, so your base is a pile of emo blocks. Very nice,” Skeppy remarked. 

“Get on.”

  
“I’m sorry?”

“Get on the blackstone.”  
  


“You know, I’d really prefer not to,” Skeppy muttered. He knew Sam was willing to build things for Dream, so there was no telling what sort of redstone contraptions would suddenly activate if he stepped in the wrong place. 

“Too bad you don’t really have a choice,” Dream said, his hand moving to rest on his axe handle. 

“Ok, fine, Jesus!” Skeppy’s eyes widened in surrender. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.” He carefully stepped over the obsidian, because it would be quite embarrassing to fall at that point, and stood in the center of the blackstone platform. “Happy?” 

Dream didn’t respond, instead opting to finish repairing the hole he had created in the stone cave wall, and then he moved to stand beside Skeppy on the blackstone. The empty eyes of the mask looked him up and down. “Try not to fall.”

“What do you m- AUGH!”

  
With the signature sound of pistons moving, the blackstone floor suddenly began to drop, moving rather like a choppy elevator. For a moment, they were in complete darkness, until the elevator shaft opened up to a wide room that appeared as if it went all the way down to bedrock. 

“What the fuck is this?” Skeppy stated more so than asked, eyes wide in disbelief. The room was impossibly large to be this far underground, but what caught his eye were the large portraits of Tommy’s stupid records decorating the wall. Beneath the tapestries, on gold platforms, were two very familiar discs, right out in plain sight. Between the discs resided a large Nether portal, eerily lighting the room in purple. 

“This is where I keep my… well, I guess you could call them _motivators_ ,” Dream said cheerily, once again taking Skeppy by the shoulder when the blackstone platform reached the ground. They stepped off, and Dream immediately flipped some sort of switch, causing the elevator to begin retreating back into the ceiling. 

Wonderful. There went Skeppy’s escape route. 

“You already know about the discs, so we’ll skip those,” Dream stated, instead steering Skeppy down a hallway to their left. “Those are for Tommy.” 

They turned the corner, and Skeppy was greeted with a long hallway, full of labeled item frames and fence posts. Dream began guiding him down the hall, narrating things as they passed. 

“I have a spot for everything. In fact, I _will_ collect everything. See, this is where I’ll put the Axe of Peace,” Dream said, gesturing to an empty item frame. “Punz’s shulker box will go there. That’s for Techno or Tommy’s bedrock piece. I already have Beckerson, I just have to get Mars,” he continued, as they passed a fish swimming around a pitifully small tank. “Enderchest is Ranboo’s. DogChamp is Purpled’s. Fran is Sam’s. You probably already know about Squeeks.” He pointed to a few pens at the end of the hallway. “Henry and Friend are already there. I’ll get Carl too when I have a chance, that’s Techno’s horse.”

“You are fucking insane,” Skeppy stated matter-of-factly. “What the hell kind of episode of _My Strange Addiction_ is this? Do you _want_ to make enemies?” 

“Listen, Skeppy, I’ll try to put this into words you can understand,” Dream began. “Quite simply, I _need_ control. Don’t you miss when the SMP was just one big happy family? Don’t you wish we could go back to those days?”

“Not like this, man. This is psychotic.” 

“I am not psychotic. All your little friends out there who keep making attachments to things are psychotic. _Attachments_ are a _weakness,_ don’t you understand?” 

“Well that’s all well and good, but that still doesn’t explain why the hell you paid off Punz to drag me all the way out to your creepy little lair.” 

“Oh, Skeppy, don’t you get it?” Dream leaned in closer, and his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “What’s the one thing Bad cares about on this godforsaken server?” 

And just like that, Skeppy’s world fell apart. 

“No,” he whispered. “Even you wouldn’t do this.”

“Oh, but I would,” Dream said in a far-too-cheery tone of voice. 

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Bad’s your _friend_. What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“ _Exactly,_ Skeppy! He’s my friend, so I need to keep him in line. How else do you expect me to maintain control?” Dream’s blank-eyed mask bore into Skeppy’s soul. “Come on, over here.” 

Dream’s grip on his shoulder tightened, and he pulled Skeppy over to the wall on their right. He had to try a little harder than he did before, because Skeppy’s legs seemed to have stopped working sometime in the middle of their conversation. 

“Look, Skeppy. I made a spot just for you.” 

And Skeppy’s insides twisted in dread. Suddenly, it felt much harder to breathe, like someone had filled his lungs with damp cotton. 

Because, in the wall, there was a small hollowed-out room, closed off from the rest of the hallway by what appeared to be iron bars. It wasn’t even big enough to be considered a jail cell. No, it was a fucking _cage_. And it had Skeppy’s fucking name written on it. 

His stomach did a flip. “I’m not going in there. No fucking way.” 

“Well, I hate to say it yet again, but it doesn’t seem like you really have a choice, now do you?” Dream’s free hand drifted to his axe handle once more. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Skeppy said firmly. “I’d rather die. I still have all three, you know.” 

“If you’ve never had to respawn on this server, let me explain it to you a bit,” Dream said cheerily. “It’s an extremely painful process, and it takes about two hours to complete. By that time, I will have messaged Punz and informed him to wait at your house until you’re fully reformed. Bad’s gone all day today, I should know, I planned for this. Do you really think that you alone, newly respawned and with no items, would be able to get away from him?”

Skeppy’s silence spoke volumes. 

“That’s what I thought. Now, are we going to have to do this the easy way or the hard way? I don’t have all day.” 

“No way in hell am I going in there willingly, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dream sighed. “Hard way it is, I suppose.” He patted Skeppy’s shoulder, then released him with care. 

Skeppy got no warning before a hand firmly grabbed him by the neck, and slammed his head against the blackstone wall. Without hands free to catch himself, he crumpled to the ground, only to be met with a swift kick to the ribs. He gasped for air, but a hand grabbed him by his hood, and the front of his sweatshirt cut against his windpipe. Slowly, he could feel himself being dragged across the room, into the small, cramped space.

“No, no, no,” he gasped with whatever air remained in his lungs. “Don’t do this to Bad, _please_ , fuck, don’t do this to Bad--”

“Skeppy, don’t you understand? I’m doing this _for_ Bad, and for everyone else. This is for the good of the server.”

And with that, the iron bars slammed shut with a resounding _clang_. 

Skeppy glared at Dream with all the dignity he could muster. “You’re a fucking monster.”

Dream was already walking away, but he paused. “Language,” he said, in a poor imitation of Bad’s voice.

And then he was gone. And Skeppy was alone. 

* * *

Well, he wasn’t _alone_ , technically. There were some farm animals and a fish, but they weren’t exactly great conversationalists. 

After the first 20 minutes or so, Skeppy was able to release his hands from where they were tied uncomfortably tightly behind his back. It was simply a matter of forming a sharp crystal on the back of his leg and sawing the rope against it until the knot gave way. But having his hands free, while it was more comfortable, didn’t exactly help his predicament. 

He was stuck, _alone_ , and even if he managed to get out, he had no idea where the hell he was. His comm had been taken by Punz, so he couldn’t call for help or even get his coords. 

He could try shouting for help, but he was in the middle of nowhere and he doubted Dream would be careless enough to build his evil lair in an easily discoverable place. Besides, he was literally at _bedrock_ ; there’s no way anyone would be able to hear him, even if he tried.

He did try bending the bars, for a while; but even when he sharpened his fingers into their crystalline form and scratched at the iron with all his might, he couldn’t even make a dent. 

So he collapsed against the back wall, after only having been there for maybe an hour or so. Dream would have to come back _eventually_ , right? He wouldn’t just leave him to slowly die from dehydration, right?

Right. Dream obviously needed him alive. So Skeppy would wait until he came back, and then he would make his move. When Dream came to give him food or water, he would attack, and hopefully be able to make it to the Nether portal. Then all he would have to do would be to find his way back to the Hub. It couldn’t be _that_ difficult, could it?

He had a plan. Now he just had to wait.

* * *

Dream didn’t come back. 

Skeppy didn’t know how long it had been. There was no way to tell, really. He didn’t have the luxury of a clock or daylight to keep track. He knew that he fell asleep twice since he last saw Dream, but he doesn’t know how long he slept or how much time passed up in the real world.

He _did_ know that he was getting pretty fucking thirsty. Beckerson’s fish tank was looking a bit appealing, if he was being honest. 

Skeppy’s headache had gotten consistently worse since he’d been trapped. It could’ve been the head injury, or maybe the lack of food and water. But his head pounded consistently, and made it hard for him to concentrate or sleep. 

Not that it was easy to sleep, regardless. He could barely switch between standing and sitting within the tiny walls of his cell, and laying down was out of the picture. He couldn’t even sit cross-legged, and he had to sleep curled into a small ball, leaning his head back against the uncomfortable blackstone. 

He tried not to resent the fact that the fucking _farm animals_ got more room than he did. 

Skeppy went to sleep 3 more times before someone entered the blackstone base again. 

He actually _was_ asleep when they came. The loud clanging of pistons and slime blocks awakened him, though, and somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped that it was Bad, that he had been found somehow. 

Those hopes were crushed when Dream came around the corner, carrying a small bag with him. Skeppy tried to hide his disappointment, as it would probably just feed Dream’s eerie euphoria at the sight of the small hallway. 

“Took you long enough,” Skeppy muttered, despite the slight relief he felt at the possibility of getting food and water.

“Well, you know, I had things to do. Places to be.” Dream first paused at the fish’s container, shaking some sort of food into the tank. 

“How funny,” Skeppy scoffed. “I have things to do too.”

“Not anymore, you don’t,” Dream said, heading over to Friend and Henry(?)’s pens. He fished around in his bag for a moment, and eventually his hand reappeared with a golden apple. He offered one to the sheep, who devoured it in instants, and then produced another one for the cow. 

(Skeppy’s mouth started to water against his will. He really didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last eaten.) 

Finally, Dream came over to Skeppy. His hand disappeared into the bag once more, and resurfaced with a glimmering potion. Skeppy’s heart both sank and rose, because he was somewhat disappointed that he didn’t get a gapple, but also desperately in need of some form of liquid. 

Regardless of his need for it, however, he looked at the glass bottle distrustfully. “What’s in that?” 

Dream poked the end of the bottle through the bars, careful not to get his fingers too close. “It’s just a regen pot. I can’t have you dying on me, after all the trouble it took to get you here. Punz isn’t cheap, you know.” 

Skeppy, still a little uncertain but too thirsty to care enough, took the potion and downed it in one go. Instantly, his headache began to fade, and he could feel some strength return to his arms and legs. His hunger and thirst diminished a bit, but didn’t disappear completely. 

Dream was already walking away, Skeppy’s hope of somehow overpowering him and escaping through the Nether quickly fading. The man wasn’t even wearing armor, probably feeling very secure in his little base. Skeppy eyed the glass bottle in his hand, and then observed Dream’s receding back. An idea began to form.

His arm was _just_ thin enough to fit between the bars, after all. 

The bottle shattered against the back of Dream’s head with a resounding _crash_. 

The masked man reached up, his hand touching the back of his head and coming away with a touch of red. Somewhere deep inside, Skeppy found that he was euphoric that he’d managed to make someone so _untouchable_ bleed the same color as the rest of them. 

Dream turned around, ever-so-slowly. “You’re going to regret that,” he hissed. 

And then he was gone. 

* * *

It took longer for Dream to come back the second time. Skeppy didn’t doubt the fact that he was being punished. He felt kinda bad that the animals trapped down there with him had to suffer too, though. Friend and Henry often made sounds of distress; although they had a small bucket of water each, they didn’t have a reliable food supply, and were probably slowly wasting away just like Skeppy. 

He wasn’t doing so great. Something about the combination of lack of food and water, lack of social interaction, and lack of knowledge of time passing was slowly driving him up the wall. 

His daily routine went something like this: Sleep. Wake up. Stand up. Sit down. Count the bricks. Talk to himself, if he was in the mood. Sleep. 

Since there was no other way to keep track of time, Skeppy turned to making scratches in the wall. He didn’t know when days would pass, so he instead created a scratch every time he slept. It wasn’t the best form of time-keeping, as he didn’t even know how long he slept each time, but it was all he had. 

He wonders if Bad noticed he was missing, yet. Knowing Bad, he probably started freaking out the minute he came home and didn’t see Skeppy. The thought made him smile sadly. 

Sometimes he holds conversations with Friend. The sheep doesn’t respond to him, obviously, but he made up a funny voice for the animal, and would hold a two-sided conversation with himself while Friend stared blankly at nothing and occasionally bleated in response. 

There were 11 scratches on the wall before Dream returned. 

He didn’t say anything to Skeppy, at first, and Skeppy didn’t really have anything to say to him either, so time passed in an uncomfortable silence while Dream fed the animals. Eventually, though, Dream came over to the bars and his mask fixed Skappy with a blank, unflinching glare. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a sparkling pink potion. 

It’s not the kind you drink. 

“Hey, wait,” Skeppy began, but he hardly got the words out before Dream reeled back and hurled the splash pot as hard as he could at Skeppy’s feet. 

The glass _shatters_. 

In the normal world, splash pots are made to be broken. They’re supposed to be used in the heat of battle, when you are probably already injured and can’t deal with more minor cuts from glass. Somehow, whoever created splash pots had devised a way to keep the distribution of shards to a minimum.

This is not the normal world, and the bottle is made out of regular glass.

It shatters, and Skeppy doesn’t have a moment to react before glass is everywhere and pieces of it are embedded where his skin didn’t harden fast enough. A particularly large piece sliced his face, and he can feel warm blood slowly sliding down his cheek as he glances back up at Dream.

The regen is working hard, but potions can’t fix _everything_. So while his hunger and thirst somewhat fade, the cuts are of less importance to his immediate health, so they don’t heal. 

Dream looked at him coolly, the mask never betraying his emotion one way or another.

They didn’t have anything to say to each other. 

Skeppy closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Dream was gone. 

* * *

Skeppy managed to clear out a good amount of the glass from the floor and from his skin, pushing it between the bars and into the hall. His smaller cuts had stopped bleeding, but the one on his face would likely scar without more potions to help fix it. 

He sleeps. He wakes up. He stands up. He sits down. He counts the bricks. He sleeps.

He didn't talk to himself, or to Friend, anymore. He got bored of that when there were 21 scratches on the wall. 

Dream came by, periodically. At the beginning, Skeppy had witty remarks to drop, to try to lighten the situation for himself. Now, he didn’t have anything left to say. 

He gets hungry. He gets thirsty. He gets hit with a splash pot. He is less hungry. He is less thirsty. He cleans up the glass. He sleeps. 

He’d learned, by that point, that he was too depleted of food and water to protect himself anymore. His skin no longer hardened into crystal like it did before. The best he could do was protect his face with his arms and hope none of the glass cut deep. This development occurred around 32 scratches into the wall. 

Sometimes, he sees Bad. 

Bad will turn the corner of the hallway, and he will see Skeppy, and he will come running. Glistening tears leak from his pearly white eyes, and he cries out for Skeppy. Skeppy cries out for him in return, and they reach for each other through the bars.

Bad always disappears the moment before they can touch. 

Skeppy did a lot of thinking, in the basement. There wasn’t much else to do. He thought about Sam and Ant. He hoped they were doing well.

He thought about Bad. 

He missed Bad. He hoped, somewhat selfishly, that Bad missed him too. 

Once, he saw Bad while Dream was there. There were 47 scratches on the wall, by then. Dream was rambling on about attachments, and control, or some other bullshit, again. It seemed like he had no one else to give his over-dramatic speeches to, other than Skeppy. 

When Dream was pacing back and forth, arms moving vehemently as he spoke, Skeppy heard the telltale sound of Bad’s footsteps. His steps were surprisingly light, for how tall Bad was, but that was just another one of Bad’s quirks. 

Dream didn’t notice, at first. He continued on his rant, when Bad noticed Skeppy and reeled in shock. He let out a small “Skeppy?” and took a step back. 

“Bad?” Skeppy said back, and fuck, he _knew_ it wasn’t real, but Bad was _right there_ , and he was running towards him, and he cried “Bad!” louder, and they were almost together again, and then Bad was gone and Skeppy was left alone with Dream. 

The masked man stared at him for a few moments, having been interrupted in the middle of his grandiose speech. 

Skeppy crumpled back into himself, and, for the first time since he’d been taken, he allowed himself to cry. 

Dream barks out a laugh. “You’re really starting to lose it now, aren’t you?” he asked, voice dripping in what could almost be considered pity. Skeppy ignored him. 

Dream scoffed one more time, and then he was gone. 

* * *

Sometimes, Skeppy thought about how some goddamn music discs had more worth than him, down here. 

* * *

Skeppy didn’t care enough to clear out the glass on the floor, anymore. He would still try to get the bigger pieces out of his skin, but he didn’t have enough energy anymore to do much more than sleep. 

He started drifting, away from his body. He’d been doing that a lot, lately. It was easier on both his mind and body to let the two separate, let his consciousness float around somewhere outside of where the pain and hurt was. 

The apathy was beginning to set in. And the boredom. And the loneliness. 

It was 63 scratches into the wall when Skeppy awoke and tried to stand. 

Key word: _tried_.

Even with the help of his arms, pulling on the bars with all his might, he was no longer able to get to his feet. From some combination of starvation and muscle atrophy, he was stuck on the ground. He was trapped curled into that tiny ball, unable to move, probably for the rest of time. 

He allowed himself to cry, again. He cried and he cried and shiny, blue-tinged tears leaked out of his eyes until he didn’t have any tears left to give because he didn’t have any goddamn water. 

He didn’t remember what it was like to live without a sharp pain in his stomach. He didn’t remember what it was like to live without a pounding headache. He didn’t remember what Bad’s voice sounded like. He didn’t remember what it was like to walk around beneath the sun.

He didn’t remember. 

  
Skeppy didn’t talk, anymore. He didn’t talk to Friend or to himself or to Bad or to Dream, when Dream came around. Sometimes, Dream would try to goad him into making a snarky remark like he used to, and all Skeppy would do was stare blankly at him. He was pretty sure that Dream took some sick satisfaction in breaking him down like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to fight back. 

One day (76 scratches on the wall), Dream came down into the basement, and he wasn’t wearing his mask. 

That was when Skeppy was certain that Dream would never let him see the light of day ever again. 

Dream stopped mid-rant, turning to face him with crazed eyes. “Are you even paying attention to me?”

Skeppy stared blankly at him. 

“You’re no fun, anymore.”

He stared. 

“Well, I hope you’re feeling better by tomorrow, because it’s a big day for me. And for you.”

He glanced at Friend. Dream had brought the animals double the amount of food today, and Skeppy was grateful. Friend and Henry weren’t looking very healthy. He probably wasn’t, either. 

Dream sighed, and reached into his bag for the regen. 

Skeppy winced, but no longer felt like lifting up his arms to protect his face. The glass shattered, and a shard went dangerously close to his eye, but he found he didn’t really care. 

He started drifting, far away from his body, again. 

  
When he came back to his senses, Dream was gone. 

* * *

He had just finished creating the 78th scratch when he heard the telltale sound of pistons and slime blocks. Dream was back. 

He wasn’t alone.

_Dream wasn’t alone_.

There were two other voices, two other sets of footsteps with him. The voices were young, and one was yelling loudly as he sighted the discs, and _fuck_ , Dream had brought the goddamn kids down here. 

  
Skeppy knew better than to be hopeful. Dream was basically the god of the server, and Tommy and Tubbo were _children_. Naive, blameless children. And Skeppy was probably going to have to watch as Dream destroyed them like he destroyed Skeppy. 

“The cause of the war, of _everything,_ was attachment. Your attachment to the discs, your attachment to Henry, to pets, to friends, to land, to countries, to items. Right? That’s the one good thing that you’ve done,” Dream announced. “It took me a long time to learn how important attachment was, and when I did, it made me _stronger._ Look, come here. Come see your discs.”

If Skeppy craned his head, he could see Dream leading Tommy and Tubbo past the hallway, towards the discs. They started speaking more softly, and Skeppy could no longer make out what they were saying except for the occasional curse word from Tommy. 

Eventually, Dream started speaking up again. “This isn’t the TOMMY SMP or the TUBBO SMP, it’s the _DREAM_ SMP! So I can control the server-- if I have everything that everyone cares about, that everybody’s ever cared about, I can control everything! I can turn the server back to what it used to be!” 

“What _did_ it used to be? This server was shit, it was just you and George dickin’ around!” Tommy exclaimed. “Why do you--”

“Follow me,” Dream cut in. “Look. I have a spot for _everything_. I’m gonna collect everything.” Skeppy leaned forward, as much as he could, and saw Dream turn the corner to the hallway with Tubbo and Tommy trailing behind. 

“Axe of Peace?” Tommy noted in bewilderment. 

“Oh, yeah! Let me put this here,” Dream said. “There. There’s the Axe of Peace, in its rightful spot.” He continued leading the boys down the hallway. “Shulker. That’s Punz’s,” he narrated. 

“Bedrock?” Tubbo asked in confusion. 

“Yeah, that’s Techno’s or Tommy’s.” He walked over to the fishtank. “Beckerson’s already there. Mars is there,” he noted with glee. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” Tommy stated matter-of-factly. 

“Enderchest, that’s Ranboo’s pet. DogChamp. Squeeks.” 

Just then, Tommy seemed to notice the hole in the wall. Skeppy, somewhat humiliated but mostly apathetic at that point, shrunk back against the back wall of the cell. 

Tommy let out a bark of laughter when he read the sign above the bars, but it quickly died out when he noticed that Skeppy was actually _there_. And from how Skeppy felt, he could guess that he probably didn’t look the best. 

“What the fuck?!” Tommy exclaimed, turning to Dream in horror. 

“Ske-- wait…” Tubbo trailed off, looking down at him in concern. 

“That’s the one thing that Bad cares about,” Dream stated, and no matter how used he was to hearing it, the sentence made Skeppy’s stomach twist every time. 

“You’re a terrible man, what the fuck?!” Tommy shouted, glancing back down at the broken glass surrounding Skeppy. 

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dickhead,” Skeppy cut in, voice raw and scratchy from disuse.

Tommy let out another short laugh, eyes still wide in disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Dream?”

Dream grabbed Tommy and Tubbo by the shoulders, steering them away from Skeppy’s pitiful state. They didn’t seem to want to leave him there, both glancing over their shoulders at him, but they couldn’t do much when Dream was fully geared up with many heavily enchanted weapons. 

Tommy was instantly distracted, however, by the cow in the corner. “What is-- this isn’t real, is it? I watched Henry die.” 

Friend let out a forlorn _baa._

“Friend? _Carl?_ Friend!” Tubbo exclaimed, seemingly unsure of what to focus on. 

“Well, did you really? Was it the real Henry? Do you know? I don’t know,” Dream rattled off. “This is a spot for Carl. Fran.” 

Tommy blinked a few times, in shock. “You’re a fuckin psycho, man. You are--”

“I’m not a psycho!” Dream cut in. “Everything I do is deliberate!” He paused for a moment, composing himself. “I _need_ control, okay? I need control.” 

Frankly, although this was the most interesting thing that happened to Skeppy since being thrown down there, he was almost at his limit for the day. And since he’d heard Dream’s “I need control” speech many, many times, he (somewhat embarrassingly) began to tune it out. 

“...constructed a prison,” Skeppy heard Dream say. And _that_ made him tune back in, because the prison was Sam’s, and maybe he would hear some news about Sam? Or even Bad, if he was lucky? 

“It’s inescapable,” Dream continued. “You can’t get out. There’s hundreds of thousands of stacks of obsidian. There’s elder guardians. There’s guards.”

“How. How?!” Tommy exclaimed. 

“A lot of time, effort, planning. Construction. You know. A little bit of evil.”

Skeppy snorted. 

“You’re a monster, Dream. This isn’t _fair_ ,” cried Tommy. 

“Evil is in the eye of the beholder.”

“It’s like that tower from Lego Batman with the eye on top,” Tubbo whispered to Tommy, and it was all Skeppy could do to keep from bursting out laughing, but he really didn’t want to distract the boys when they were in danger, so he tried to keep quiet. 

“That was good,” Tommy said. “Really lightened the mood, with that one.” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“No, no, it was good, I liked it.” 

“Tubbo,” Dream interrupted. “I’m going to lock Tommy away forever. I mean, I need him alive _,_ but that doesn’t mean he has to be free. Listen, Tommy, when you were in exile, it was perfect. The only problem was that you could escape, right? And you _did_. And that was the problem. I was fine with you being in exile, but then, the thing is, you left. It was perfect, and you ruined it.” 

“You know what? No, you can’t lock me up. You know what, Dream?” Tommy asked, jogging back down the hallway and grabbing the Axe of Peace. “You know what? I’ll fuckin kill you.”

Dream paused for a second, and then grabbed Tubbo, dragging him down the hallway to where Tommy was, his axe biting into the soft flesh underneath Tubbo’s chin. “Try it, and I’ll kill him.” 

The Axe of Peace practically flew back into the item frame, and Tommy snarled in anger. “Fuck you, bitch! Yeah, you lock me up, but I’ll _swear!_ From inside!” 

“I need YOU alive, Tommy!” Dream shouted. “I _don’t_ need Tubbo!” 

Then, their voices dropped to a quiet level again, and Skeppy was no longer able to hear. But his stomach coiled in dread. He didn’t know Tubbo well, but he was a fucking _kid,_ he didn’t deserve to be murdered in front of his best friend. Hell, if Skeppy had to watch Bad be killed in front of him, he probably wouldn’t be able to handle it. And Tommy was just a kid, too. He didn’t deserve to be put into solitary confinement for the rest of his life.

_And you do?_ a voice in the back of his mind asked. 

He pushed that thought down. He’d deal with it later. 

Without the audible voices of the others to keep him grounded, he slowly started to slip away. Blankly staring at the wall in front of him, where Fran was going to be kept, he stepped back and allowed his mind to leave. He’d heard enough. 

(He didn’t want to watch a child be murdered in cold blood when he could only sit and do nothing.)

He started drifting, again. He drifted off for a long, long time. 

But he regained a small amount of consciousness when he heard the distinct _vwoop_ of someone arriving through a Nether portal. 

“I’m sorry, Dream,” a familiar voice rang out. “But you should’ve paid me more.” 

Skeppy blinked, _hard,_ trying to ground himself. Something big was obviously happening, but he was kind of floating above his body at the moment and he wasn’t quite sure what was going on. 

“Wait…” Dream said with uncharacteristic confusion. 

“You came!” Tommy exclaimed. “Over, Tubbo, over, behind, behind BEHIND!” 

“Step away from them,” a firm voice stated. 

“GET THE DISCS! THE DISCS!”

Voices started overlapping, and Skeppy could no longer quite discern who was talking and who wasn’t. Unfortunately, his mind didn’t seem to want to snap back into his body, and he was beginning to panic a small bit. He’d never been drifting when he _needed_ to be present, before. 

He gripped his head, and curled into himself even tighter. 

_Focus, Skeppy_ , he thought firmly. _Focus_. _Where are you? What can you see?_

He could see the godforsaken blackstone that coated everything. He could see Friend, and Henry. He could see the glass on the floor. 

_What can you hear?_

There were voices, shouting. He couldn’t discern exactly _who_ , but it was enough. 

_What can you feel?_

He could feel his fingertips digging into his head. He could feel the hard floor beneath him. He could feel the pangs of hunger that constantly haunted his body.

_What can you smell?_

He could smell the animals, they weren’t exactly clean. He could smell himself. He hadn’t had a shower in weeks. 

_What can you taste?_

  
He tasted blood. 

Slowly, ever-so-slowly, he came back to himself. He had to go through his senses a few times, but each time he was able to label more of his surroundings. He was able to identify some of the shouting voices that overlapped incessantly. He recognized the fact that there were people, and that they were there to help, but he couldn’t even bring himself to cry in relief because he didn’t have enough water in his system. 

Was Bad there? Did Bad come for him? He couldn’t tell, everything was still so cloudy. 

He focused, he focused really fucking hard, and tried to tune back into the conversation that was happening at the other end of the base. 

“We can establish independence!” said Tubbo. 

“This server can finally be the SMP it should’ve been, when we all joined.” That was Tommy.

“Tommy, what was in this hallway over here?” Was that Sapnap, maybe?

Tommy sighed. “Dream was collecting every little thing that meant something to people, and--” He paused. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Bad, you need to get over there right fucking now.” 

Bad? Bad was here? 

Skeppy turned his head as far as he could, straining to see past the iron bars. And as a group of people turned to look down the hallway, he caught a glimpse of red and black, and he fucking broke. 

Bad looked at Tommy in confusion, too curious to even admonish his use of language. “Wait, what’s over there, Tommy?”

And _holy shit_ , that was Bad’s voice, and unless this was his mind playing a sick joke on him he was _finally going to see Bad again_ and he was going to touch Bad again and he was going to be with Bad again and--

“Here, this was on Dream,” Tommy said, tossing a key ring to the demon. 

“Uh, ok?” Bad asked, voice laced with confusion. 

“Wh-- Beckerson?” Sapnap voiced, already having ventured partially down the hallway. 

“Take him, he’s yours!” 

And at this point Skeppy was hyperventilating, and he couldn’t breathe, and the walls were closing in on him, because _Bad was right down the hallway_ and he had finally come for him.

Unless this was all just another dream, of course. 

But footsteps approached him, surprisingly light for the demon’s height, and he heard a small “Skeppy?” and suddenly nothing else in the fucking world could have mattered because Bad was _right there._

Bad was crying already, pearly white tears escaping his eyes of the same shade. He was fumbling with the keys, and it sounded like he was trying to string together a sentence but couldn’t quite find the words. 

“Bad,” Skeppy whispered. His voice cracked, partially from disuse and partially from emotion. 

And then Bad was scrabbling at the door frantically and then the bars swung open for the first time in weeks and then Bad was on the ground in the middle of the pile of broken glass and then Skeppy had pitched forward into his arms, sobbing without tears, because he had no water in his system, but it didn’t matter because _Bad was here._ Bad was crying too, tears dripping down his face, and a crowd had gathered around them but Sam was desperately trying to shoo them away to give Skeppy space, and Skeppy greatly appreciated it but also _Sam was here too_ and so was Ant and everyone and _he wasn’t alone anymore._

Bad’s fingers found their way into his hair, and his touch was so comforting and familiar that Skeppy heaved another dry sob, fingers clutching Bad’s cloak as if he could disappear any minute. And, given the track record of Skeppy’s mental state, he _could_ disappear any minute. There was no telling if everything was some sort of fucked up hallucination or not. 

“How do I know you’re real?” Skeppy murmured through his sobs, voice scratchy and raw. 

That just made Bad cry harder. He gently cradled Skeppy’s face, his glowing eyes meeting Skeppy’s. “I’m real, Skeppy. You’re just going to have to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

Skeppy gazed into Bad’s eyes, and there was something there more _alive_ than any of the other Bads he’d seen in the past couple weeks. “I trust you. Always,” Skeppy whispered. And he collapsed into Bad’s arms once more.

They stayed there for a long while. The crowd, with a few harsh words from Sam, slowly dispersed, leaving just Ant and Sam standing over them protectively. 

“Let’s get him out of here, yeah?” Ant asked, voice shaky. 

Bad briefly met Ant’s eyes, and nodded. “Can you walk?”

Skeppy looked away, somewhat embarrassed. “No.”

And so Bad wordlessly stood, stooping over and picking Skeppy up with practiced ease. Normally, he would have protested, but he didn’t really have any dignity left to spare. Besides, Bad was warm, and he could feel the demon’s heartbeat, and his presence was comforting, and he never wanted to let go of Bad ever again. So he carried Skeppy out of the hallway, Ant and Sam blocking them from curious eyes of bystanders, and if Skeppy hadn’t depleted his energy already he probably would’ve started crying again. 

Tommy was standing on top of an obsidian box, grinning like a madman. “Let’s lock him up, boys! Holy shit!” 

Cheers rang out from the crowd. Tommy met Skeppy’s eyes, and nodded once. Skeppy offered a small smile in return. 

He turned his attention back to the obsidian box, which was slowly being opened up to reveal a slightly battered Dream. “Have fun in jail, _jail boy,_ ” Tommy scoffed. 

Sam put his hand on Skeppy’s shoulder. “I have to go now,” he said quietly. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Sam. Thank you. Seriously,” Skeppy whispered back. 

Sam looked him over one last time, and slowly nodded. Then he released Skeppy’s shoulder, and walked over to Dream and Tommy. 

“C’mon, Dream,” Sam said, and that was his Warden voice, and Skeppy was definitely grateful he’d never been the one on its receiving end. “Let’s go.” 

Tommy watched the green-clad man be led away by Sam with an indescribable look on his face. It wasn’t quite euphoria, or disgust. Maybe relief?

“Goodbye, Dream,” said the child who had suffered too much at the hands of the server’s god. 

And then, with the telltale sound of pistons and slime blocks fading away into the ceiling, Dream was gone. The coward didn’t even spare Skeppy a glance. 

Skeppy watched him go. And although Skeppy was generally an empathetic person, he couldn’t help but wish that Tommy had taken Dream’s third life. 

It was over. 

The crowd began to disperse, some taking the elevator and others taking the Nether portal. Tommy and Tubbo left together, clutching on to each other as if they were afraid someone would tear them apart again. Skeppy’s pretty sure that he saw Ponk taking the leftover gold. Ranboo didn’t move for a while, instead frantically scribbling away in his notebook. Punz met Skeppy’s eye for a moment, and quickly looked away with an unreadable expression. 

_It was over_. 

Bad looked down at him, with slightly watery eyes, and he smiled. 

  
“Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If this story gets enough attention, I might write a sequel focusing on recovery. If that's something you'd like to see, please let me know!
> 
> Edit: sequel has been posted!
> 
> Also, although I didn't take direct inspiration from it, there's another fic on Ao3 with a similar premise. It's extremely well written, and I highly recommend you check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137974


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